


What Do We Do?

by Charlieregretsthis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fred Weasley Dies, Heavy Angst, Possible start of a relationship, Sadness, Vague relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 15:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11084184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlieregretsthis/pseuds/Charlieregretsthis
Summary: George returns to the scene of Fred's death three days afterwards, to get time alone. Someone else is there.





	What Do We Do?

It has been three days since Fred died. Seventy-two hours, 4,320 minutes, 259,200 seconds since Fred has been gone. It’s the longest time George has gone without talking to his twin in his entire life. They were always together. They were always together. Always. 

George is sitting on the seventh-floor corridor, cross-legged. He knows he shouldn’t be here, not this soon, but he can’t make himself stay away. He’s not even sure he meant to Apparate here, he’s been barely awake these last couple of days. Voldemort is gone, the Wizarding World is back to normal, but what does it matter? Fred is gone- Fred is  _ gone _ , and George still can’t let himself fully think it. Fred was supposed to be  _ there _ , Fred was never meant to die. Everyone else was, George had imagined everyone else in his life dying, Angelina, Harry, Ginny, even his  _ mother _ , but  _ this _ ? 

This was never meant to happen. Never. 

He is sat there, tracing aimless circles on the dust floor. People are all around the grounds, celebrating, taking pictures, but no one is in the castle. Out of respect, partly, but also because there is wreckage all around. The castle is in ruins, ceilings falling, floors crumbling. He shouldn’t even be here, it’s dangerous, but he doesn’t care in the slightest. 

“You’re still here.” George jumps to his feet, heart pounding. He whips his head around, toward the origin of the voice. Was he mad, or did it sound like-

“Angelina,” he breathes. She’s leaned against the wall, hair dishevelled and eyes sunken. 

“Is this where…?” The questions looms unanswered, but it doesn’t need to be. George nods weakly. 

“I shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe,” George chokes, tears welling in his eyes. 

“I shouldn’t be here either,” Angelina murmurs, crossing the room to stand next to him. “We should go.” 

“Yeah, we should,” George agrees, neither of them making any move to leave. They both sit down, leaning on each other silently for a moment. 

“It doesn’t feel like a victory,” Angelina whispers. “It feels like we lost. Everyone is celebrating. But I…” she pauses, and George can feel a wet spot gathering on his shoulder, where Angelina’s tears are landing. “I just feel like nothing matters anymore.” George smiles sadly. 

“What can we say? What do we do?”

“There’s no answer to that.” 

“Fred would have had an answer.” Angelina stiffens for a second, the name pressing on a fresh wound. 

“I saw you here earlier, maybe fifteen minutes ago,” she whispers, so quietly that George can barely hear her. “I thought you were him.” 

George closes his eyes, tucking his head into Angelina’s shoulder. “I can’t look in the mirror, Angie,” he sobs, letting the sadness flow out of him. “I can’t even be around my family. They all look too much like him. How am I supposed to get through this? He was always there. How do I exist without him?” 

They’re both crying now, an ugly mess of tears and questions. Angelina wraps her arms around him, and he dissolves into her, collapsing in her arms. It feels so good to cry. It feels like a breath of fresh air. 

“Tell me a funny story. About him,” Angelina says, after they have run out of tears to shed.

“I don’t think I can be funny anymore.” 

“Then… just tell me a story about him.”

George thinkd back through the years. There are too many stories, too many moments of Fred that he’ll never be able to remember. He can’t possibly remember them all. 

But still, he needs to say something, didn’t he?

“When he was getting ready for the Yule Ball, when he was your date, he was so nervous. I’d never seen him that nervous before. Even during the whole Chamber fiasco, when we were all terrified of being killed ‘cause of Dad’s Muggle obsessions, he wasn’t this nervous. He was tripping over his own feet, he made me practice ballroom dancing more times than I can count. He really wanted to impress you.”

Angelina laughs. “Well, he did certainly make an impression.”

“ _ That  _ was the only time I’ve ever seen him embarrassed.” The memory of Fred falling onto the food table still makes George laugh whenever he thought about it. 

“I don’t know how to feel now,” Angelina mutters. “There are no classes on this. I don’t know how to deal with death.” The word is heavy in the air. 

George feels Angelina’s hair on his shoulder. He remembers his years in the Gryffindor common room, staying up late with all of his friends. Angelina, Jordan, Fred, cracking jokes and half-studying well into the night. He looks over at Angelina, looks out at the horizon. He thinks of Fred, lying here three days ago, bloody and blank. 

“Angelina, let’s go.” 

**Author's Note:**

> The only reason I added in the George/Angelina is that they eventually get married in the book. In the fic, though, they're just good friends. Hopefully you didn't cry too much. Fred is the death that gets me every time.


End file.
